


my body's covered in teeth marks

by LilacFleur



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Noir, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, Happy Ending, Identity Reveal, Its a lot of plot and a lot of porn at this point, M/M, Misunderstandings, Protective Wade, Recreational Drug Use, References to Drugs, Slow Romance, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Violence, a peter from the multieverse died off screen, its noir verse so its gunna be a little gorey, well no noir verse but petey is from it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 05:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13968309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacFleur/pseuds/LilacFleur
Summary: Peter Parker is just trying to escape the chaos that disrupted his life when Mysterio made an appearance. He couldn't go back to his original universe after all he discovered, so he settled on a place that contained a missing Peter Parker - one who had died a few weeks before he stumbled upon this world. Life is going how he expected, and he's building a place for himself. Things go awry when he begins investigating a lead on Tombstone, and runs into a mercenary who knows about the others. Wade is the only one who knows what its like to lose someone you love, and finally he is someone Peter can talk to on those dim nights. One problem that haunts Peter is this: Wade was in love with another version of him, one who died and left behind a broken man, a broken man that Peter can't help but fall in love with as well.or;it all started with a gunshot wound, like all dark love stories do.(Peter is from the Noir universe, and Wade is just typical Wade)





	1. ACT I

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Nicole Dollanganger - Dog Teeth.
> 
> "He handed me a pair of pliers  
> And he told me to pull out his teeth"
> 
> (Background and info for those unfamiliar with Noir!verse at the end notes)

CHAPTER ONE 

 

Peter Parker had gone through some shit in the past eight years since becoming Spiderman, or, as some would call him, Spiderman Noir. From dealing with gangs, mob bosses, nazis, and super powered villains, he had seen the worst in the world. Well, the worst in  _ worlds.  _ It was still headache inducing to try to comprehend what had happened after the introduction of Mysterio into his life. Jumping from 1933 to 2099 and fighting villains far beyond his imagination was terrifying. Then suddenly finding himself sometime in the early 2000’s after needing space from everything. Not to mention seeing all the variations of himself within the multiverse, having another version of himself save him only to be revealed as one of his previous enemies overtaking another Spiderman’s body, being injured multiple times, and being hunted down by a self proclaimed spider killer. It had been more than he’d bargained for. 

Now, Peter was quite content to be back in more or less a similar situation he had been in before. While he wasn’t  _ home home  _ he was somewhere he could call home. When he’d been randomly dumped into a timeline that lacked a Spiderman - or rather Peter Parker had actually died before becoming an arachind - he’d taken up the mantle. Aunt May was none the wiser, Robbie hadn’t been subject to Otto’s lobotomy experiments, and Felicia hadn’t had her face scarred by Taskmaster. With this peace of mind, he was able to blend into this Earth. The only reminder he didn’t belong was the John Doe grave he visited every Saturday morning to bring flowers to. 

Though, having to deal with his previous enemies who possessed the ability to obtain far further advanced equipment was a pain in the ass. While back home Osborn had been a disfigured gang leader, here he was a villain who possessed some sort of genetic mutation alongside advanced technology. Or here Dr. Octavius was a mad scientist of sorts, but lacked the obsession with race theory and his ‘arms’ were much more terrifying. Though, the enemies from his past seemed far more terrifying in many ways. They didn’t need technology to demonstrate the reason they were labeled villains back in his time and his Earth. Immediately Vulture popped into his mind at the thought. 

While this timelines Vulture didn’t have the array of shark teeth that had torn Uncle Ben’s chest open, he still terrified Peter. If it came down to a showdown where Vulture had little room to be detained, Peter didn’t think he would resist the urge to pull the trigger. He was trying though, the other Spidermen insisted that killing was not part of their motto. 

Granted, they hadn’t been raised as an impoverished boy in the 1930’s surrounded by some of the most gruesome shit anyone could witness. 

The images of Uncle Ben’s body still made Peter wake up in a cold sweat with tears streaming down his face. If it wasn’t Uncle Ben, it was a long list of others: Ben Urich, Robbie Robertson, Felicia Hardy, all those people Urich had shown him during their partnership, and more. It was always unnerving to have these nightmares then see Urich at the Daily Bugle or see Robbie during lectures at the university. 

It was hard adjusting, but Peter was making due. 

And by making due, Peter found himself skimming through his Physics textbook as he leaned back on a building high in the New York sky with the fading light of day. The days were still relatively warm, so Peter used his trench coat as a sort of beach towel to lie on as he put together simple projections of electric currents. That was one really good thing about the future, all the knowledge. Peter had fed like a glutton on all the textbooks he could get his hands on the first year he found himself on this Earth. It had made Aunt May laugh whenever she stopped by his apartment and saw the mountain of books. 

After finishing the chapter of readings for his next lecture as well as getting a better grasp for the concept of his next lab, Peter stuck the book in a safe place till he returned later to collect it. The sun had nearly vanished, and it was time to start his night. Urich had been talking at the Bugle about dealings taking place at the dockyards, and Peter assumed it might be linked to a certain Tombstone. While this Urich hadn’t confronted Peter about his secret identity, he figured the man had an idea. He had mentored Peter when he first applied at the Bugle, and just like Peter’s Urich, this Urich was a smart man. Urich dropped hints from what he heard in the underground, and in return Peter spent Friday nights drinking with him at a pub near the Bugle to keep Urich away from the heroin that still called him. Peter didn’t want to see the man who had stepped in like an uncle to him die again. 

Before Peter could leap off to the dockyards he got an incoming text - the concept of cellular devices was still fascinating to him - from the man himself. 

_ Don’t steal my shot this time, I need to make money too, punk.  _

Peter just smirked after shooting a quick reply before jumping from the building. 

_ Maybe you should take better shots, geezer.  _

 

______________________________________________________________________

  
  


Peter frowned the minute he approached the warehouse Urich had been talking to him about that morning. The dockyard was relatively quiet while the cool sea breeze blew through the shipping containers. The smell of salt filled Peter’s lungs as well as the drift of tobacco. Two men were outside casually smoking cigarettes while chattering to one another. They stood at the door of one of the warehouses, and were attempted to appear casual. Peter could clearly see the pistols tucked into their trousers. 

Tombstone had been turning the police in the area toxic and sleazy. Dead bodies were turning up constantly, but the police weren’t doing anything other than filling their pockets with green. Peter wasn’t sure what he was planning, but it was nothing good. Tombstone was like a piece of Peter’s past Earth wrapped up in a bow and dropped on his doorstep. He was a mob boss who held no remorse for his actions, and even appeared to relish in the death he caused. All while having influential people in his back pocket. Robbie had actually discussed with Peter how the notorious mob boss had gone to high school with him, but hadn’t said anything further when Peter had pried. Even Robbie, who was always risking everything to expose villains through his journalism, had told Peter to sit this one out. That didn’t stop Spiderman, however. 

A diversion was necessary, Peter realized, as he watched two men round the building. These two men were wearing construction uniforms, but Peter’s sixth sense - or he guessed his  _ spidey sense  _ \- warned him of the concealed firearms they also possessed. Worry ate at Peter’s gut as he hypothesized what was happening inside the building. Peter hadn’t ever been quite the same after sieging Dr. Octavius’s laboratory all those years ago. Everytime he infiltrated a villain operation he was always terrified to suddenly bare witness to the horror’s of what humankind was capable of. 

_ “What we just witnessed was the opposite of humanity.”  _

__ Shaking the thoughts of his past from his mind, Peter lept to a warehouse that was shadowed. It was slightly closer, and Peter looked for a way inside or a way to create a diversion. While Peter wanted to bust inside guns blazing like he’d done before, he knew it was riskier in this place in time. Everyone and their unborn fetus owned a gun in America these days. 

Being silent as a spider, Peter crawled down a shadowed wall of his current viewpoint. While he prefered leaping, he knew when to use his powers to aid in stealth. Carefully, he lunged forward, and silently stuck to the side of the target warehouse. He’d been watching their patrol routes, and he had approximately twelve seconds to blend into the shadows. It was times like this he loved the design of his suit compared to his other counterparts. 

Easily, he sank back out of the view of the moonlight just as the two ‘construction workers’ rounded the corner. He watched from his vantage point on the roof as they took one hundred and twenty four seconds to round the next corner. They moved at a lethargic pace that allowed them to survey their surroundings. Their one mistake was not looking up. 

Next, Peter needed to find a way inside. 

Luck wasn’t on Peter’s side as the only hatch he located led to a sight of pink insulation for the roof. Irritated, Peter hovered over the side of the building near a small rectangular window. While it wasn’t large enough for the arachnid to slither through without making noisy effort, it still gave a view of the inside. He could see some figures inside talking, but the closed window prevented any distinguishable noise from reaching Peter’s sensitive ears. Using his adhesive fingers, he pushed the window to the side. As it slid open it let off a small squeal of metal frame on metal frame that caused Peter to wince. Luckily, the voices inside were too distracted. 

He glanced to the right, and hid again. Twenty three seconds later the men rounded the building again. Peter would have a gap of approximately six minutes between their break from this segment of the buildings route. He deducted it to five minutes to leave little room for risk of them rounding the corner before the six minute mark. He wasn’t going to get caught with his dick out on an important stake out. 

Part of his mind wandered to where Urich might be staking out himself in wait for a photo, but he didn’t think to hard on it. Urich could take care of himself, and if he were in danger Peter would make sure nothing came to harm the journalist ever again. 

“I thought you said Tombstone would be here?” 

Peter crawled down again once the men rounded the building, and peered inside the dimly lit warehouse. 

“Change of plans, we’ve had a few issues arise. You’ll meet him when he’s good and ready,” a man said who stood with his arms crossed. 

There were seven men, two near the tall man who had just spoken and three near the first speaker. They all wore expensive suits, tailored to their bodies perfectly. The two men around the latter speaker held fully automatic weapons in their hands, and looked to who Peter assumed was their superior. He seemed calm, while the other man looked as if he was going to whip out the pistol secured to his hip. 

“No, I was told I would talk to Tombstone. If you want our cooperation in Hunts Point, I talk to him. I ain’t about to give him forty percent of my fucking profits just for some bullshit protection from those unitard fucks.” Peter wished he could make his entrance then just to crack one of his golden jokes. It was, however, interesting to hear what the meeting was about. Why was Tombstone trying to form alliances? 

“Tombstone is willing to change the percentage, so long as you tell us who you have in your backpockets-” the other man began. 

The first man spat on the ground at that, splashing saliva over Tombstone’s representative’s shoe. The taller man grimaced at the gesture, and narrowed his eyes at the gang leader before him. 

“We negotiate when I see Tombstone,” the smaller man sneered. Peter noticed his teeth rotting from drug use. 

The other man sighed again, irritation clear in his brow. “I told you, we had a few issues arising, and it is best that Tombstone stays in hiding for the moment-” 

Once again he was cut off. “I don’t give a fuck! I ain’t dealing with some underling. I risked my own ass getting here.” The gang leader was also missing one of his canine teeth. Peter could work with that for a few good remarks about dental hygiene. 

Peter glanced at his watch and quickly crawled up the building to wait for the security to pass. The men down below argued continuously while Peter waiting. After a minute and thirty four seconds passed, Peter’s spidey senses flared. Something was wrong, the men were over thirty seconds late in the patrol. 

Hesitantly, Peter peered over the side and looked into the building to see if the men had entered. The gang leader still spat insults at the representative, but there was no sign anyone else had entered the room. Peter’s senses flared again, and he winced at the scream of them. Something was  _ very  _ wrong. 

As he tried to shake his head away from the throbbing pain, the smaller man’s voice grew in volume as anger overtook him. “So, what ‘issue’ is so fucking important that you’re screwing me about?! Huh?” 

“Well that would be me!” 

The new voice sounded loudly, a chipper tone to the masculine voice. Peter quickly surveyed the area to locate the source of the voice. The men cursed and spun around to find the newcomer as well. The scene suddenly turned hostile. 

“Who the fuck said that?!” the gang leader roared. 

“I told you, me!” 

Suddenly a flash of red and black darted from the shadows, and, before anyone could do anything, blood gushed from one of the the gang leaders underlings. A gurgled screamed echoed in the empty warehouse as the injured underling fell to the ground. Peter hadn’t even seen the assailant attack, but the clear slices in the man’s jugular and chest indicated an attack. 

“What the hell?” the taller man exclaimed as he pulled out a pistol from his belt. “Who the fuck-” 

“How many times do I have to say  _ me _ ?” the voice scoffed in playful irritation before suddenly another scream sounded. 

The man to the right of Tombstone’s representative let off a slew of bullets into the shadows as he fell to the ground. Blood immediately began pooling from the two puncture wounds in his back. 

Peter cussed as he quickly slid through the tight window, just in time to see another man drop beside the gang leader. Nausea flooded Peter’s gut as he saw the man’s now empty eye sockets as he screamed. The sounds of agony coming from his mouth were blood curdling as he clutched his empty orbital cavity. 

“Well, guess he can’t  _ see  _ me, but that’s probably for the better in the long run.” The unnamed voice spoke again with a delighted giggle. 

Peter had to admit, even if it was a grotesque joke, it was a good joke. He had a run for his money if he didn’t terminate the newcomer. 

“Hands up, kick up, this is a stickup!” the man sang as more bullets flew in the air. This time they embedded themselves in the representative’s last remaining man standing as well as the gang members. 

The two men looked petrified at the fallen bodies of their comrades. 

“Okay, stop singing Filthy Pillows, you’re off tune.” 

The two men turned to the sound of Peter’s voice, and appeared more terrified if that was even possible. 

“Oh fuck,” the gang leader cussed. 

Surprisingly, the assailant was quiet for a moment. Peter surveyed the shadows to locate the culprit that was picking off the gang members - Peter’s only current lead. He didn’t need the only two men who might explain what Tombstone was planning to drop beside their fallen comrades. 

“Oh, who’re you? Like the suit, a little old fashion though.” 

Peter turned to the voice just as his senses flared, and he rolled to the side just in time to miss a bullet flying at him. The explosion of gunpowder echoed, and made Peter’s ears ring. Whoever was hiding had good aim, but luckily had finally given their position away. 

“Hanging in the rafters? Who are you, Batman?” Peter scoffed as he turned his head upwards to the silhouette barely visible above. 

The man made an impressed whistle before dropping down. The dim lighting glowed off the leather suit the man wore. Red and black hugged tightly to the curves of the man while a belt hung low on his hips. White eyes appeared to be lifted in amusement as a smirk was partially visible through the mask. He cocked his hip out as he spun a pistol around his index finger while the safety remained off. This is a man who  _ knew  _ what intimidation met. 

Fortunately, Peter knew too. 

“If I’m Batman, can you be my Robin? Dick Grayson or Jason Todd, you pick. Tim and Damian are too young for my taste, I prefer them legal, thank you very much.” The figure’s smirk grew from under the mask as he spoke. 

Quickly, Peter pulled his pistol and aimed it at the man. He didn’t bother with the other two in the room as they were still frozen in place in pure fear. He assumed the shock of seeing a random assailant take down your crew just before Spiderman emerged was a decent way to send an individual into shock. 

“Oh, Jason Todd, I love it.” The man giggled as he spoke. “Though, for your sake, I hope you can do the whole Lazarus Pit thing too.” 

With ease, Peter jumped from the second bullet sent at him. A spray of six more followed, and Peter leapt across the warehouse to avoid their sting. The assailants aim was perfect, and without his senses Peter knew he’d be a mess of brain matter and blood by this point. The merc hummed in recognition of Peter’s above average skills. 

“For one, that is practically incest you’re alluding to. Second, what are you doing here?” Peter demanded as he returned his aim to the masked man’s skull. His heart raced in his chest as the merc reloaded his gun with the appearance of being nonchalant. The gun pointed at him didn’t seem to faze the man at all. It sent a warning chill up Peter’s spine. 

The man hummed as he cocked his gun. “A job, I don’t usually kiss and tell, but you’re holding my attention.” The man glanced up after he spoke with another smirk. “Someone hired me to take down Tombstone, simple as that. He’s ruffling a few feathers.” The man shrugged before aiming the gun at the representative while still watching Peter. “Now run off princess, or else I’ll actually have to get rid of you too.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed, and, while the gun for hire couldn’t see it, he assumed the man understood what his intentions were. The man audibly sighed when Peter didn’t depart. “I’ll be the one to deal with Tombstone. Back off,” Peter warned. He waved his gun to indicate he wasn’t messing around. He wasn’t going to let some random mercenary come in and kill a group of people, and mess up Peter’s own plans to take Tombstone down. 

The man actually  _ whined  _ at Peter’s words - which threw the hero for a loop. “But I don’t want to kill you, you actually seemed cool!” 

Before Peter could retort to that, the man moved his gun at blinding speed. Peter had little time to react as he once again dove out of the way, but was knocked breathless as he felt the burning pain of searing steel enter his flesh. He grunted as he jumped up and out of the way of anymore projectiles aimed his way. Blood was quickly soaking into his clothing, and his shoulder screamed in pain.  _ Great,  _ Peter thought miserably as he clutched the wound,  _ how the fuck am I going to get blood out of my carpet when I get home.  _

“That was rude,” Peter snapped irritably. He tried not to focus on the white hot pain that licked at the back of his mind. 

“Impressive,” the man replied with a small amount of awe to his voice. “Yeah, that was impressive.” 

“Fuck this shit!” 

The two bickering men turned to the smaller gang leader who now aimed a gun at the mercenary. Peter almost laughed in pity at the man’s stupidity. The gang leader was shaking, so harshly in fact that it was clear he’d never make a clean shot. Fear had drained the colour from his face, and he was pale in the dim white light above them. 

The mercenary tapped his chin for a moment as if in thought before another shrug rolled from his shoulders. “Don’t really need you.” 

“Don’t-” Peter exclaimed. 

The gang leader dropped to the ground before he could blink. Nausea flooded Peter’s gut as he saw the mangled remains of the crack addicts head. Images of Urich jumped to the forefront of his mind, and he quickly repressed them. Now was not the time to have a meltdown. 

“He could have had information you ladybug looking moron,” Peter cussed as he glared at the gunman. 

The man gasped at Peter’s words. “Ladybug?! I should have chosen that as my alter ego. It has a nice ring to it.” 

Peter felt as if he was in a fever dream. The man was clearly unstable. Peter had been doing this for over eight years, and he even still had moments of hesitation before he took a life. This man held no remorse, and even processed to act cheery after committing murder. The mercenary was more dangerous than he’d previously assumed. 

While Peter was still slightly taken aback, the man turned to the representative who looked on in horror. “Now, do tell, where the fuck is the shark tooth asshole?” The mercenary shoved the glock under the man’s chin, the molly chrome steel scratching against his afternoon shadow. 

The man sputtered in fear, and Peter rolled his eyes at the mercenaries intimidation technique. It had no finesse. 

“That’s what I’m asking,” Peter cut in. The mercenary pouted as Peter moved closer while aiming his pistol at his head. 

“You don’t give up, do you?” The man sighed with his pronounced pout. The man turned to the representative who was nearly pissing his pants as he looked at Peter’s looming form. The merc then frowned as he glanced back and forth between Peter and the unnamed man. After a moment his eye landed on the man trapped by his gun. “Who is this guy? Thinking he’s all that and a bag of chips while dressing like some steampunk Zorro.” 

Peter shot a glare at the man for that. 

When the man didn’t answer right away, the man shoved the gun harder into his skin which made him let out a whimpered cry. Peter nearly sighed at the mercenaries poor excuse of a display of power. Peter was clearly missing something that made the other man just as equally terrified of him as Spiderman. 

“He-He’s Sp-Spiderman!” the man sputtered. The calm and cool demeanor from earlier in the evening had completely washed away. 

_ Along with his dignity _ , Peter thought with a frown as he saw the man had quite literally pissed himself. 

At the man’s words, the mercenary gasped as he brought his hands to his face. His gun squished against his cheek uncomfortably, and Peter glanced at him in mild confusion. The gun for hire was practically shooting goo goo eyes at him at the representatives words. It made Peter second guess if he should really bother staying around. 

“Oh my god! Spidey! It’s been too long,” the man gushed. 

Mild confusion turned into full blown confusion as Peter cocked a brow at the merc’s words. “Uh…?” 

The merc pressed the gun to the man’s temple before giggling at Peter’s obvious perplexity. The man whimpered again while the mercenary didn’t seem to pay him anymore attention. “Oh, you haven’t met me yet. Timelines, parallel universes, all that jazz. Though, I got to say I miss the red and blue. You’re ass was  _ very  _ nice in it,” the man rambled as he gave Peter a once over. 

Immediately, Peter’s stance shifted to be on the offense. “How do you know about them?” Peter demanded. He was tense and ready. No one was going to start killing off his other counterparts again. He may have run away from them to start a new life, but he still cared about them deeply. No one would hurt them. 

The man smirked. “You aren’t the only one who jumps around a lot. I’m confused though, you don’t seem like the others,” he commented as his head tilted to the gun in Peter’s fingers. 

Peter gritted his teeth together as he clenched the pistol tighter in his grasp. He made sure the barrel was pointed directly at the mercenaries skull. “Grew up a little more rough around the edges,” he replied stiffly. “Now, let the man go, he’s mine. Leave before I have to take care of you too.” Peter didn’t mention how he was going to hunt down the gunman after this and put a bullet in his head. He had to protect the others, and a diversion of morality meant little to him when it came to protecting others. It was a lesson the others hadn’t learned, but Peter had taught himself. 

“Can’t do that,” the masked man replied simply. “I wanted to use this shitbag for interrogation too, but now he knows too much.” The masked man smiled sweetly down at the man who was sobbing at this point. “Can’t let him harm the baby boy.” 

Peter’s stomach dropped. “Wait-” 

The gunshot echoed in the building as the final body dropped like a sack of wet flour onto the concrete floor. The blood spray across the mercenaries suit didn’t phase the man as he holstered his weapon. Peter’s heart hammered in his chest as his legs went numb at the ruthless execution. The hero swallowed hard as he tried to process all the dead bodies around him. He felt sick. 

“Why?” Peter gasped as he lowered his pistol. His body shook slightly. He was so tense his body ached. 

The man glanced up. “Couldn’t let him know about you all. Your little gang of crime fighting spiders already has a big enough target over your heads.” He wiped his hand off on his blooded suit before extending it. “The name is Deadpool.” 

Peter didn’t lift his own. “How do you know about them?” he demanded again instead. 

The man - Deadpool - pouted at the lack of reciprocity. When it was clear Peter wasn’t budging, the man dropped his hand. “Jumped around for a bit myself. Didn’t think there was going to be a spidey waiting for me back home,” he cooed. 

He wanted to argue further for a better answer, but assumed this was the best he was going to get. Instead he focused on the bodies surrounding them, and tried to keep the sick feeling in his stomach at bay. Anger flared in the deepest center of his chest as he realized his lead was completely gone, pooling around the floor like syrup. 

“You just killed the only lead to Tombstone!” Peter accused as he glanced to the dead representative on the floor. Half his cranium was missing, and his brain matter messily spilled on the cement. His shattered jaw hung open in a scream that had been drowned out by the bullet. It made Peter swallow thickly to keep his stomach from churning.  _ You’ve seen worse,  _ he told himself. 

At that, the man pursed his lips. “It’s unfortunate, but, like I said, he knew too much. He also probably wasn’t that high tier considering there were so few men involved in this deal,” the man hypothesized as he watched Peter’s reactions. He was quiet a moment before he scowled. “You two need to can it.” 

The comment made Peter squint in confusion before he turned his focus on Deadpool’s first words. “Why would you kill something for knowing that?” 

“Aren’t you planning to do the same thing to me?” Deadpool replied simply with another smirk. “Can’t say it’ll work well.” 

Peter couldn’t think of a retort to that. Instead, he approached the man. “What I meant was why would you care if they knew?” A part of Peter insisted to just put a bullet in the mercenaries head, but another part was curious as to this turn of events.

“I got to say, this badass persona you have is such a turn on. Don’t get me wrong, love the red and blue, but this…” The man’s eyes scoured the hero’s body that was partially hidden by the large black trench coat. 

At that, Peter jerked back a step. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“What era are you from? I’m guessing pre-1960’s,” the man said as he stepped over the dead body that separated them. 

“Where are you going with all this?” Peter grunted as he gripped the pistol at his waist. The cold steel seeped through his gloved hand, and helped to ground him in the situation. His senses were scrambling around in his head, and he tried to think clearly to find his opening. 

An air of melancholy surrounded him as he approached the hero. “I’ve missed you.” 

It took a long moment for the words to process in his mind. He recognized that sorrowful tone, that feeling that twisted in his gut to the point he found himself shivering over the toilet late at night. That tone signified loss. It was painful to remember. What he would have given to be able to say that to those from his past, but instead had tried to incorporate himself into a life that wasn’t his. They couldn’t know that he’d seen them die, but if he could he would say just that.  _ I’ve missed you.  _

It made sense now, why this stranger would kill a man for knowing the secret of someone he didn’t know. 

“You knew one of us,” Peter stated as he finally holstered his gun. He left the safety off, however. 

The masked man nodded. “Like I said, I hop around too. Stopped in one random multiverse and stayed for two years once I met him. Teamed up for a majority of that time.” Deadpool didn’t continue, but Peter could guess the rest. 

The thought that one of his morally sound alter egos partnered up with the mercenary was shocking. Peter could tell it was more than just team ups however, the pain in his voice was too raw for anything less than a close friendship. He could feel that raw burn in his chest whenever he saw anyone from before. He felt it in the dim hours of the morning when he first woke up and thought he’d turn over to see Felicia, and was only met with a cold mattress. 

“Well, thank you for protecting them,” Peter muttered before rounding the man to view the corpses around him. Without looking at the man’s mangled face, Peter dug into the representatives pockets to see if he held anything of value on him. 

The man - Deadpool - shuffled behind him to peer of his shoulder. “You won’t find anything on these shitbags. Like I said, low level. Anything they knew is currently viewable as pink mashed potatoes to your right,” the man joked. 

Peter’s stomach churned at that, but he ignored it. Instead, he stood and immediately winced from the pain in his shoulder. The bullet was still deeply embedded in his shoulder, and blood was pumping steadily from the wound. All the previous adrenaline was wearing off. Now he found himself quiet exhausted if he was being honest. 

“Fuck,” he cussed. He moved his uninjured arm so he could press his palm into the wound to stop more blood flow. The pain made his vision speckle with dark spots as he inhaled sharply through his teeth. 

“Oh shit, oh hell no,” the man behind him babbled as he quickly rounded him. His face looked mortified beneath the leather, and his hands shook. The persona he had been parading around in before had completely melted away as he gave Peter a once over. “Fuck webs, I’m so sorry! I’ll help you, I promise.” The pain in his voice was filled with an anxiety Peter could relate to on levels he would never had thought possible before. 

_ Huh, who knew some random asshole with a gun would actually be more relatable than any of my other variations?  _

Peter chuckled delusionally from the blood loss as he processed the mans words. “I don’t shoot webs,” he mumbled before the space around him faded away. 

 

______________________________________________________________________

  
  


The low hum of an elderly females voice from a radio filled Peter’s ears. The air smelled like chili or something similar. A warm thick blanket was spread over Peter’s body, and he could feel the uncomfortable sofa beneath him. He must have fallen asleep while Aunt May listened to the radio and planned for their next protest. She was getting really riled up about the raids police had been doing on the pharmacies in their neighborhood. 

_ “They’re stealing what little medicine we have left! It’s inhumane, they let us die in the streets then let us die from disease.”  _

__ Peter grimaced as he thought of how best they could go about the protest without gaining attention from Osborn and his goons. They had been threatening May with more severity and frequency recently, and it worried Peter. 

As he went to roll over, pain shot like hot fire from his shoulder. Suddenly the memories of what had happened flooded back and he bolted upright. A cry of pain escaped his lips as he tried to stand. 

“Wow! Careful there I-don’t-use-webs-webs. Your shitty healing factor hasn’t kicked in quite yet.” 

Peter spun around to face the voice. The masked mercenary stood in a small kitchenette with a two seated island between them. An old stove burner was on to heat up a pot that sat atop it. A television played reruns of some show with a gaggle of older women. The blanket that he had scrambled from had an array of pokemon characters on it. Slowly he categorized these things, and grounded himself in the present. 

After a moment he swallowed past the nausea that always threatened him when he awoke like this. He blinked for a few more moments to clear his vision before turning to the mercenary who was looking at him patiently. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be doing so if it wasn’t Spiderman standing before him. 

“Where am I?” Peter asked as his fingers roamed to his face. His mask was still in place which made a wave of relief spread through his body and numb his finger tips. 

The man watched Peter for a moment before smirking. “My hideout. I took you here after you passed out in the warehouse,” he explained as he moved to a cupboard. He produced a bowl before reaching into a drawer for a spoon. “I got the bullet out and patched you up. If your healing factor is anything like the last time I saw it, you should be all good in a day or so.” 

Peter watched the man cautiously as he moved his hand to his shoulder. His gloves were removed as well as his trenchcoat and leather vest. His fingers tugged through the hole in the black sweater to trace over the perfect stitching. With how meticulous they were he assumed the man had removed the sweater during his game of nurse. He wondered if the man had been fazed by all the scars across his body. Peter was littered with them, ranging from thin white lines to ragged angry pink crevices. 

“I’ll be fine for tomorrow night when I start looking for Tombstone from step one again, thanks to you,” Peter chided as he pressed against the bruised skin around the gun wound. It flared painfully, but it was more of an ache than the white pain from before. 

The assassin laughed at Peter’s harsh words as be moved from the kitchenette to the living space. He placed the bowl on the coffee table before falling gracelessly into a beat up lazy boy. Peter eyed the soup suspiciously which made the mercenary pout. 

“I’m not poisoning you webhead. Eat up, I know you metabolize quick. You’ll need all the help you can get,” the man said. His head darted to the side, and Peter swore he could see his eyes roll behind the mask. “Where is the mute button for you two?” 

“You hear voices?” Peter blurted as he reluctantly sat back down on the sofa. His senses weren’t warning him of any danger, so he let himself sit stiffly on the cushions. 

The man tilted his head before shrugging. “Complex backstory you can unlock during a sappy moment mid fight sequence or for depressing pillow talk.” 

Peter rolled his eyes behind his visors as he rolled up the base of his mask. He picked up the bowl, and the delicious scent wafted in the air. In lieu of replying, Peter took a mouthful of the soup. It held a hint of spice and tasted just like Aunt May’s chili she used to make for them during holidays when money wasn’t too tight. He didn’t have to ask to know that whatever version of himself the man had met had for some reason trusted him with the family recipe. 

As Peter ate, the man sat back more relaxed in the worn armchair. “You’re a lot more scarred up than the rest of ‘em,” he commented casually. 

Peter smirked as he took another bite. “Growing up during what you all refer to as the  _ Great Depression  _ does that to you,” - he took another heavenly bite - “and I got most of the face ones in a fight with a goon. He called himself  _ Sandman. _ ” He was quiet for a moment, wondering if he should continue. He hadn’t talked to anyone about his past before, and even revealing his scars was like taking a burden off his shoulders. With May he had said the reason he went missing was because he’d gotten roughed up by some gunmen, and that explained the scars away. It was… nice, to tell someone the truth. A part of Peter warned him of getting too comfortable with a man he just met who had murdered seven people in cold blood as well as shot him. 

“Complex background story?” the man suggested with a quirked brow. 

The arachnid took another bite. “Something like that.” 

The man was quiet for a long moment. “I’m usually a lot more to handle - headache inducing some would say. Just a warning for you,” Deadpool said quietly. 

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Peter asked just as quietly as he stared down at the red liquid in his lap. The mercenary nodded from his position. “You never really get used to it,” Peter began as he set the bowl down. “Some days you wake up, and it’s easy to blend realities. Other days it's like a constant knife in your chest.” He thought over his words carefully before he continued, “I find that the ‘other days’ are more frequent than the ‘some days’.” 

“He died in my arms.” 

Peter shot his head up at the confession. The mercenary was looking at the television, but his face showed no interest in the program. 

“Got killed by a bullet. Simple, nothing glorious like he thought it would end. Just a simple bullet.” The man squeezed his hands into fists as he spoke. His voice was raw and wavered slightly. It was clearly his first time saying it outloud. Peter waited for him to continue. After a long moment he unclenched his fists. “It shattered his zygomatic bone, and exited through his parietal bone. He was instantly blind in that eye. The eye that still could articulate what was happening looked at me, and it recognized, it  _ understood _ . I don’t remember killing who did it, but I must have. I just remember holding him, and for those agonizing four seconds I thought he’d live. Then he was gone.” 

Peter was silent as he absorbed the man’s words. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter finally said after a heavy silence. 

The mercenary looked over to the arachnid, and it looked as if his face softened. “Thank you.” They were both silent for a while, and Peter absentmindedly ran the pad of his index finger over his stitches. It was a moment for grief. After it has passed, the man looked to Peter. “You want to join the support group?” 

Peter chuckled humorlessly at that. He counted the bumps of string under his finger as he collected his thoughts. “I’ve seen a lot of people die. Sometimes it's scarier when they don’t.” He licked his chapped lips as his heart raced. “Robbie was probably the worst. He had the world in front of him, and it was taken so quickly. If I had been a fraction quicker, he would have been fine… him and Gloria would have gotten married, maybe had some kids.” Peter pressed his finger against the wound to focus on the physical pain rather than think about what happened to Robbie. He could still see that glazed look when he closed his eyes. 

“What happened to him?” the man prompted as Peter dug further into the wound. 

“A nazi lobotomized him.” Peter slowly relieved the pressure against the stitches. “Urich got in with the mob, heroin, money, all of it. He finally went to go public about all the information he had when they killed him. He was doing it to prove to me that he could still be the  _ good guy. _ ” The pressure returned again as he bit back tears. “Then Felicia… I ruined her. I loved her, but I destroyed her.” 

Peter glanced up as the mercenary got up from his chair, and moved to suddenly fall into the couch beside the young vigilante. His body was warm against Peter’s thigh. “You guys really love to put the world on your shoulders,” the man commented as he reached over and carefully removed Peter’s hand from the injury. 

“You seem to as well,” Peter replied as he casted his eyes down. 

The man chuckled at that. “Only the parts that I care about,” he said honestly. “The name is Wade. Wade Wilson.” 

Peter glanced over. The man - Wade - had set his eyes on the television again. He wasn’t asking for Peter’s identity, perhaps he already knew, but it was a nice sentiment. 

“Nice to meet you, Wade,” Peter replied softly as he looked over at the man beside him. 

The mercenary smiled under the mask. “It’s nice to hear that again.” They were both silent for a moment, and Peter absently traced the stitching again. The television was on a low hum that was barely audible over their breathing. Wade was clearly in deep thought, his face blank like a canvas. “Careful, you’ll irritate it,” Wade murmured as he gently removed Peter’s roaming fingers. 

The gentleness reminded him of when Felicia cared for him while he was wounded. It was careful and soft, like somehow he could break at any second like a glass doll. It made Peter’s heart ache. No one could know about his secret vigilantism here, he couldn’t risk it again. He would have to lick his own wounds at home for however long he remained here, and he’d do the same in the next place, and the place after that. 

Wade’s gloved fingers felt nice against his skin. 

“We can team up, if you ever wanted to,” Peter offered after an extended silence. Wade whipped his head over at the words, his face already glowing from under the mask. It nearly made a smirk tug at Peter’s lips. “But you can’t be guns blazing every time. There is a time and place for guns, and that is not twenty four seven.” 

“Done! I promise, guns only when absolutely needed,” Wade assured as he practically vibrated with excitement. “I’m so happy baby boy, I could kiss you like that dream make out session I had with Bea Arthur. That old women sure knows how to use her tongue,” Wade rambled. 

A warm flush reddened Peter’s cheeks at the comment. The heat of Wade’s body against him made Peter’s body warm as well. It baffled Peter that suddenly something in him had shifted just from spilling out a small fraction of his life to a stranger. Maybe it was due to the blood loss or the surreal situation, but he felt a heat burn in his belly he hadn’t felt since Felicia. Surprise filled his gut at the sensation. He had never offhandedly admired a man before, or perhaps he had, but never allowed it more than a glance. 

This time he allowed a lingering glance. His eyes washed over Wade’s toned arms and torso. The man had a strong nose, and a define jawline. He admired Wade’s thick thighs, but wouldn’t allow himself to look at the man's groin. 

Peter shook his head, and glanced away towards the empty bowl. He felt a small shame in his chest, but he tried to swallow past it. He guessed growing up in a time period of oppression had left a few more marks than he had initially thought. 

“Kissing an old woman doesn’t sound all that enjoyable unless you like the taste of denture fluid,” Peter joked. He worked hard on not turning to look at the mercenary for a moment so he could collect his thoughts. The random urge scared him a little, and he tried to blame it on the chaotic night. 

“Don’t dash my dreams like that,” the man whined before chuckling. He threw his arms over the couch, and once again Peter was assaulted with the heat of him. Wade noticed Peter shift slightly at the movement, and dropped the arm behind Peter back onto his own lap. “Ah, I guess it’s weird for a guy to show affection to you huh? You said 1930’s right?” Wade commented. It wasn’t accusing, but instead he was accommodating to what he thought was Peter’s discomfort. 

Peter shook his head. “It’s not like that. I mean, kind of? It wasn’t exactly… you know,” Peter said. He struggled to find the words to clarify what he meant. He gave Wade a fleeting look. Heat burned holes in his cheeks. That sick shame twisted in Peter’s gut. It was stupid to even look at the man like that, casual affection was common in this time period even between two men. The man probably viewed Spiderman as a close friend and ally, it was ridiculous to gaze at the man in such a way. 

“Have you ever thought about it? Another man?” Wade inquired casually as he turned his body more towards the masked vigilante. His knee pressed against Peter’s outer thigh, and set that fire in Peter’s belly. 

The conversation had taken a drastic turn. He was guessed this is what Wade had meant earlier that he was a lot to handle. Peter swallowed thickly, and resisted licking his lips. “No. Maybe? I don’t know, it wasn’t… you couldn’t…” He struggled again to find the right words. Wade gave him a moment to collect his thoughts. After a pause that lasted long enough for the television to go into a commercial break, Peter gathered himself. “Yes.” 

“It’s okay to feel that way,” Wade whispered. Peter swore Wade shifted a fraction closer. “You don’t need to hold yourself back here, or follow old protocols. You’re already a crime fighting badass who beats himself up over silly mistakes. You don’t need to beat yourself up over something like that webs.” 

“This is ridiculous,” Peter chuckled humorlessly as he ran his hands over his partially masked face. “You shot me less then what? Six hours ago?” 

“Five and a half,” the man corrected simply. 

“Smartass,” Peter muttered. His heart was hammering against his chest like a woodpecker had taken residence in his ribcage. His palms were sweaty, and that fire in his belly blazed like an inferno. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“God, please,” Peter begged. 

Wade’s mask was up in record speed, and suddenly his lips were against Peter’s. They were rough and hot against his own, and held no remorse as he devoured the vigilante. He wasted no time as he pressed against Peter, pushing him into the sofa. Peter moaned as Wade’s tongue tasted him, soaking into every fiber of his being. His body pressed against him, forming against Peter’s body. Wade was heat; he bled into every crevice of Peter’s body like white hot magma. 

A gasp escaped Peter’s lips as Wade pulled away. They breathed in heavily, swallowing in the air between them. Peter’s chest heaved as his heart pounded painfully in his chest. Lust burned throughout his body, and he let out a low moan as he felt Wade’s hard groin against his own. 

“Bed?” Wade panted as he moved his lips to bite at Peter’s throat. 

“Bed,” he agreed. 

He clung to the mercenary as Wade dragged them to stand while still pressing his lips against the vein of Peter’s neck. They stumbled clumsily through the apartment, and Wade pushed him recklessly against the door of the bedroom to assault his lips again. Their teeth bumped together, and Wade laughed breathlessly before groaning as Peter bit at his lip. 

Wade fiddled with the door, and cussed under his breath when he struggled to open it. Peter laughed, light headed, before Wade finally twisted the knob. The man wasted no time in shoving Peter backwards onto the soft mattress, and kicking the door closed. 

“I’m scarred,” Wade suddenly warned as he began to remove articles of clothing. He removed the top half of his suit, but Peter couldn’t admire the man’s naked form in the dimly lit room. 

“I don’t care,” Peter said as he breathed heavily. Knowing that the dark would conceal his face, he quickly removed his mask and turtleneck. 

Wade tossed off his belt, and Peter was quick to hook his fingers in the man’s waistband to pull him closer to the end of the bed. It made a chuckle escape the mercenaries lips. “It’s a lot worse than yours, webs.” 

Peter’s mind flashed to Felicia, and it made him wonder what happened to the man before him. Shaking the thought away for a later discussion, he quickly worked open the man’s trouser button. “I don’t care. And I told you, I don’t shoot webs,” Peter replied before unzipping the man’s pants. He nearly groaned as he felt the naked skin of the man who clearly thought wearing boxers was not an option in a suit. 

“I’ll make you shoot webs,” Wade joked with a suggestive thrust of his hips. 

“Fuck you,” Peter retorted before pressing his wet lips against the base of Wade’s cock. 

Whatever reply the man had in store was drowned out as Wade moaned while Peter shimmied his pants off further to gain access to all of the man. Peter gripped Wade’s thighs once he’d released the man’s cock. It hung heavily, and Peter became intensely aware of his own aching erection. 

Peter took the man in his hand as he glanced up at Wade’s silhouette. The man threw his head back with a low moan as the arachnid worked his hand up and down his length. He wasn’t sure how to please a man properly, but he knew how to please himself well enough. Hesitantly he wrapped his lips around the tip of Wade’s cock. 

“Jesus,” Wade cursed at the sensation. 

Taking it as a good sign, Peter took the man deeper into his throat as he tasted him on his tongue. A slew of cusses escaped Wade’s lips as Peter swallowed him down. He knew it was clumsy, but Wade didn’t seem to care about that at all. Peter whimpered as he felt Wade run his bare fingers through his hair. He didn’t pull like he had expected, just continued to push away Peter’s hair from his forehead as he looked down at him. 

“God you’re gorgeous,” Wade groaned loudly. 

“You can’t even see me,” Peter said as he pulled off of the man. He panted as he continued to work Wade’s cock with his fingers. 

“Your eyes catch the light just right,” the man explained before another moan spilled from his lips. A blush coated Peter’s cheeks at his words. “Okay, move back on the bed baby boy.” 

Peter obliged, and shimmied back against the sheets. His breath immediately hitched as Wade quickly worked off his trousers - he made a comment on Peter wearing underwear that had the vigilante laughing - before he crawled over him. 

“Tell me if you want to stop,” Wade suddenly said seriously. The way he brushed his fingers against the curve of Peter’s waist had him shivering. 

“Okay,” he agreed. Any fear he had about what was about to happen vanished at the man’s words. He could trust the man looming above him, gunshot wound be damned. 

To Peter’s surprise, Wade’s lips moved to press against the stitches. His lips were suddenly gentle, apologetic, as his fingers rubbed small circles over Peter’s hips. It made Peter’s heart hammer in a way different than before. It wasn’t the thrum of lust, it was a flutter of something else. It wasn’t hot like fire, it was warm like dying embers. 

Before Peter could linger on that, Wade migrated from the mark to press against Peter’s lips again with that hot fever. Peter whined high in his throat as Wade ground down against him, giving his throbbing cock the friction it needed. 

Wade continued to grind against the man below him as he reached somewhere over to the side. Peter shivered as his back arched while Wade’s lips wetly kissed his throat. Finally the man’s roaming hand returned to place something beside Peter’s body. 

“Tell me if you need me to slow down,” Wade stated as he bit at the vigilante’s earlobe. Peter nodded weakly while the noise of something uncapping sounded from beside him. Wade pulled back to sit on his haunches as he poured a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. 

He leaned back down to kiss him again, sucking Peter’s tongue into his mouth. Peter gasped into the mercenaries mouth as he felt his warm calloused fingers draw goosebumps across his waist while his other wet fingers pressed against him. Slowly, Wade pressed a single thick digit inside causing Peter to dig his blunt nails into Wade’s shoulders. The skin beneath Peter’s fingers felt different than anything he’d felt before, and distracted him for a moment as Wade allowed him to adjust to the intrusion. Once his muscles relaxed around the finger, Wade began moving his hand. It was an odd sensation, and Peter squirmed when the man added another finger with the first. 

Wade distracted Peter with heated kisses as he slowly pumped the two digits in and out of him. A shiver raked Peter’s body as he felt the man inside him. “Okay?” Wade hummed as he nipped at Peter’s jaw. 

“Yeah,” Peter replied a bit breathlessly as his cock stirred at the new sensation. “It feels-” Suddenly his sentence was cut off as his mouth popped open to release a loud moan. His back arched off the mattress as a heat curled in his belly at the sensation that Wade stroked from deep within him. “Oh god,” Peter cried which made the mercenary smirk. 

“There we go,” Wade grinned - his teeth flashing in the small rays of light that filtered through the blinds. “Trust me, I’m going to make you shoot webs baby boy.” 

Peter didn’t have the capacity to retort as Wade continued to rub against the spot inside him that turned him into a hot mess. He barely flinched when the man added a third finger, and thrusted them into Peter faster. Wade continued to please the younger man under him, assuring Peter would be ready for what was to come. It was an entirely new experience for the arachnid. Peter was breathless as he panted into the hot room. 

Slowly, Wade pulled his fingers away. Peter blearily blinked up at the man above him who moved down to press a soft kiss to his lips. “You still okay?” When Peter nodded, the mercenary placed another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Tell me if it’s too painful. If you can’t take me this time around, I’ll be sure to eat you out nice and good.” The implication made Peter whimper. 

Peter bit his lip as he felt the head of Wade’s cock against him. Carefully, Wade pushed himself inside. Peter bit his lip harder as he felt himself stretch to accommodate Wade’s girth. The man could feel the vigilante’s thighs tremble against him, and paused half sheathed to allow him to adjust to the intrusion. Once Peter’s body lost the tension, he pushed further until his cock was fully buried within him. 

At a gradual pace, Wade moved against Peter. Peter’s breath hitched as he felt the drag of the man’s cock against that sensitive bundle of nerves. It tingled all the way to his fingertips and toes, eliciting a low moan from his throat. 

“Feel good?” Wade grunted as he felt Peter clench around him. 

“Yeah,” Peter replied breathlessly as Wade continued to move against him. He was so full with Wade’s cock deep inside him. It made him painfully hard. “So good.” 

Wade smiled against the crook of Peter’s neck as he buried his face there. “So good,” he repeated as his fingers trailed Peter’s sides. 

Wade began to move against him faster, thrusting him into him with more intent. A moan escaped the larger man as Peter cried out at the fire that coiled inside him at the delicious feeling. He dug his fingers into Wade as he sped up his pace, plunging into him hard and fast. The drag of his cock inside Peter was astonishing, pulling noises from his lips he never thought possible. 

“Not sure how long I’ll last,” Wade grunted as he slammed into Peter. The mattress thudded loudly against the wall as Peter gasped at the stimulation, and wrapped his arms around the man’s neck. “Almost made me cum on your face earlier.” 

“You can still do that,” Peter managed to say as he panted. 

That made Wade moan loudly. “You’ll be the death of me.” Peter chuckled before his breath hitched after a particular thrust. “Gotta get you off first baby boy.” 

Peter cried out so loudly that the apartments around must have heard him as Wade began to pump his cock. The two simulations were so intense Peter felt the heat of release begin to build. “Wade!” Peter whimpered. 

“Say my name,” he replied as he sucked a mark onto Peter’s neck. 

“Wade!” Peter repeated as Wade brushed against his prostate, pumping his throbbing cock, sending him over. He came with Wade’s name on his lips that turned into a mantra as the man milked his cock as his vision went white from his orgasm. Peter sobbed as he came like never before, spilling onto his own stomach. He clenched tightly against Wade, and the man hissed into the crook of Peter’s neck as he came, filling Peter with his warmth. 

Wade let go of his hold on Peter’s cock once it was spent, letting it rest in the pool of cum. The man slowly pulled out as Peter’s chest heaved as he came down from his orgasm. Peter blinked back the wetness in his eyes as he looked up at the mercenary. 

“Sorry, I meant to pull out,” Wade hummed as he rested down against the man under him. The sticky cum between them didn’t phase the man as he moved his hand to gently brush the sweat soaked hair from Peter’s forehead. 

“S’all good,” Peter slurred as he waved his hand. Carefully he wrapped his arms around Wade’s neck as the man breathed in Peter’s scent. 

“You smell like sweat and gunpowder,” Wade commented as he pressed his lips to Peter’s neck. 

“So do you,” he replied as he ran his fingers over the odd skin of Wade’s back. 

“Touché,” Wade chuckled. Lazily he reached for his bedside table, and opened something there. Peter flinched at the cold wetness that suddenly pressed between them. “Baby wipe,” Wade supplied as he cleaned the mess between them. “Always a good idea, trust me.” 

The silliness of the idea of Wade cleaning himself with a baby wipe after jacking off made Peter giggle into the man’s shoulder. After that they were quiet as they slowly breathed in the scent of sex in the room as fatigue washed over them. Peter wasn’t sure what to do in this situation. Most nights he stayed with Felicia afterwards, or disappeared to fight crime. The latter didn’t feel appropriate in this situation for some reason, but he wasn’t sure what Wade wanted. 

As if sensing this, Wade wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist as he shifted to lie beside the arachnid. “I do like a cuddle session after sex. If you want to leave you can though, you know where I live if you ever want to come back for round two.” 

Peter thought on that for a moment before turning his head towards Wade. He could make out a few features from the moon light filtering through the white plastic blinds. Scars ran across the man’s body like the surface of the moon that hung above them. He couldn’t see them well, but he understood why Wade waited for the darkness to hid himself. They didn’t phase Peter, but he knew they could draw unwanted reactions elsewhere. As he shifted his gaze over Wade’s face, they locked eyes. 

They were a crystal blue. 

“I can stay for awhile longer,” Peter murmured. 

Wade smiled, his teeth gleaming. “Glad to hear it, baby boy.” 

 

______________________________________________________________________

  
  


“Didn’t see you last night.” 

Peter glanced up tiredly as Urich leaned against Peter’s desk. 

After the night before, Peter had left a short while after Wade had fallen asleep. Before he left he wrote down the number for his Spiderman phone on a Star Trek notepad in the kitchen then hung it on the fridge. He wasn’t sure what was started last night, but when he woke up later that morning, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t confused as to where he was. He was finally grounded in the present for the first time in forever. 

“Couldn’t make it there in time,” Peter replied with a yawn. 

Urich cocked his brow at that. “Looks like neither of us got a photo then. Jameson is going to kill one of us. Cops showed up last night by the time I got there. Nine bodies, and, from what I gathered this morning, none of the bullets are traceable.”

Peter almost smacked himself. He had almost completely forgot what had led to him getting his brains fucked out the night prior. “Well fuck,” Peter cussed as he leaned back in his desk chair. 

Urich paused as he gave Peter a once over before smirking. “Ah, too busy last night to get some photos?” He chuckled as he jabbed one of the many hickeys lining Peter’s throat. 

“Fuck you,” Peter laughed while trying to hide his blush. 

“She a keeper?” Urich asked. 

Peter pursed his lips at that. He was quiet for a short moment as he thought over the question. “Not sure. I’m kind of worried I’m a… stand in.” 

That was a can of worms that had been wiggling around in Peter’s head all morning. Wade was quick to jump on him given the opportunity, and knowing the mercenary had, had some sort of connection to one of his other selves… it surprised him how much it hurt. Peter kept thinking of that fluttering in his chest when Wade had kissed his wound, the tenderness of the moment. Yeah, that realization hurt. 

Urich watched the turmoil cross Peter’s face. Peter jolted when the man gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. “If she’s worth it, you won’t be a stand in. If she treats you like one, she won’t be worth anything.” 

“That easy to read, huh?” Peter sighed as he rubbed his tired eyes. 

Urich grinned cheekily. “I’m a detective journalist, it’s my job.” 

Peter frowned as Urich fixed his suit before throwing him a salute, and walking to his own office. He thought over Urich’s words before groaning in frustration. Before he could think too hard on it, the burner in his pocket vibrated. 

Without too much thought Peter flipped it open - expecting a text from one of the other few vigilanties he associated with. Instead he was met with a message from an unknown number. Perplexed, Peter opened the message. 

Once he read it he jumped from his desk, and rushed to Urich’s office. The man jumped in surprise - spilling some coffee on his desk at the younger man’s sudden appearance. “Urich! I got to head out, I got a lead,” Peter explained as he shoved his arms through his jacket sleeves. 

Urich grinned in challenge at that. “Bet I’ll get a better shot.” 

“Bet you a pitcher of beer for Friday,” Peter dared as he put his camera around his neck. 

“Get ready to be fifteen dollars short!” Urich called after Peter’s retreating figure. 

Peter rolled his eyes at that before sending off a text as he left the Daily Bugle. The sorrow that was building in his chest would have to wait for a different day to drag him down.

_ One of Tombstone’s piss pants is meeting another crackhead. Hell’s Kitchen this time around. Team up? - DP _

__ _ Don’t kill them this time, smartass. - SM _

  
  
  


______________________________________________________________________


	2. ACT II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "He'd broken all their hymens  
> Cut them open and played inside them"  
> -Dog Teeth
> 
> I finished this at 4:30am, so I'll probably come make a few edits by next week. Sorry for the delay, life's a wild ride.  
> Also, be warned of some more gore.

CHAPTER TWO

 

The sun was high in the sky when Peter’s feet hit the gravel of the rooftop in Hell's Kitchen. The heat warmed the base of his boots, and soothed his sore heels. It was an unusually hot day for the fall, and the black uniform he wore absorbed the sun's rays. The sensation helped calm his nerves as he approached the other body on the rooftop. 

“I’m disappointed you aren’t web slinging across the city like some badass steampunk, Spidey.” 

“Parkour works completely fine,” Peter replied shortly as he crouched down to move beside the mercenary. Deadpool was currently holding a S&T Motiv K14, but he wasn’t looking down the sight. Instead, he watched the spider slink down beside him. 

After a small moment, he smirked. 

The building across from them appeared to be a regular apartment building. It wasn’t run down, but it wasn’t worth a fortune. It was inconspicuous. The red bricks of the building were weathered from the years it had been standing while the stores at the base had a sleek remodeled appearance. A nice looking sushi bar and a family owned boutique were the two businesses below. A woman fixed a mannequin that stood in the window. She’d been fixing the same sleeve of a pastel blue blouse since Peter arrived. 

“They’re on the floor above the boutique. It’s a storage area for their product, and contains a small office. The blinds on the office window have moved three times in the past twelve minutes. Someone is nervous,” Wade said. Peter watched as the man expertly load the five round rifle. 

“If you shoot we’re going to be back to square one,” Peter stated simply.  _ Not to mention it’s unnecessary to kill them.  _

Wade chuckled at that. “I’m getting ready to shoot the lady in the boutique.”

Peter’s eyes widened at that as he glanced to Wade. “Why the hell would you do that? You’ll give away our position!” Peter hissed in irritation. 

“Because she thinks my least favourite hotdog vendor across the street is about to pull a gun on her,” Wade explained simply as he strained his right eye down the scope. “He never has mustard at his cart, and he ran over a rat with his cart once  _ on purpose _ .”

The train of thought made no sense to the arachnid. “And why the hell would she think that?” 

“Because I paid him seventeen hundred dollars to. By the way, do you want a hotdog?” Wade asked innocently. 

Before Peter could reply, gun fire echoed in his ears along with civilian screams as the boutiques window shattered, and the woman dropped to the ground in a pile of blood and glass. The rifle in Wade’s grip pressed harshly into his shoulder, and he let out a whoop before aiming at a curtained window and let off another round. Peter watched wide eyed as a body fell backwards out of the window, and hit the pavement harshly. 

“Time to make our entrance baby boy!” Wade hollered giddily as he jumped to his feet and leapt from the building. 

Peter crouched momentarily stunned before shaking his head. This was not what he expected, and he now owed Urich a pitcher of beer. Screams echoed from the street as gun fire continued to thundered in the air. Wade had told him the night before he wouldn’t kill unless it was necessary, so he’d better have a good excuse for this. Sighing, Peter stood and leapt from the building after the mercenary. 

With ease he landed on the window sill that was shattered open. The broken glass exposed an office space with three dead bodies and two terrified mobsters. A man similar to the one from the warehouse incident stood in the corner with his pupils dilated from the adrenaline in his system due to Deadpool's entry. A second man hid behind a desk, and appeared to be sobbing out a prayer under his breath. 

“How the  _ fuck _ do you not know the meaning of being discreet?” Peter snapped in mild irritation as he stepped down from the sill. 

“Keep swearing like that baby boy and I’ll be half mast like Luke when he first saw that hologram of Leia,” Wade hummed as his eyes traveled up Peter’s body. 

Peter rolled his eyes. “What is with you and the shitty incest comparisons?”

Wade just shrugged. “Also, I didn’t just do it for a kick ass fucking entrance - which let me tell you, it was. Any other little gangsters ran after hotdog vendor while we made our entrance. Oh, don’t look at me like that, hotdog vendor is fine.”

That was doubtful.

“If you’re looking for intel on Tombstone I won’t say a thing!” the representative suddenly said. 

Peter glanced over to the man who he’d momentarily forgotten about. The fearful adrenaline was fading from his system as he tried to stop the tremors in his hands. He radiated far more confidence than the previous one from the night before. Peter could only assume that would lead to a brutal confrontation with one of Wade’s katanas. 

Wade giggled at that, bumping his shoulder against Peter’s. “That means he’ll spill his guts,” - Wade smirked as he lifted his hand as if to whisper a secret even with his booming voice - “in more ways than one.” 

He didn’t doubt that. Wade was far more ruthless than Peter was. He killed without hesitation, without even the hint of a flinch. He’d seen it the night previous, but now the realization was solidified. It concerned him just how easily he accepted Wade’s methods. The part of him that had been buried while teaming with the other Spidermen was beginning to stir. It told him that sometimes doing the right thing wasn’t always pretty. There was a reason why he’d never gotten the nickname  _ ‘friendly  _ neighborhood Spiderman’. 

In a way, it was like he’d suddenly shed a weight he didn’t realize he was carrying. No one was there to analyze and criticize his every deviation in the moral code. The person watching him now  _ knew  _ there were some people past the point of saving, and delaying the process would only kill others in the meantime. It was something the others never learned, and would vehemently argue against even when there was no alternative. 

With this realization, Peter finally stood tall for the first time in the past eight years since he was given this burden of being one of  _ them _ . He’d had this confidence stripped from his stance when he’d doubted himself, and it felt rejuvenating, almost intoxicating, to feel it again. “Unfortunately pea for a brain here isn’t joking. He doesn’t understand the importance of a live - albeit unreluctant - whistleblower. I do,” Peter stated as he took a step forward. He felt glass crunch under his boots while sirens blared in the distance. He felt powerful, and felt that he finally filled out the new body the spider bite had given him. He’d been given this power because he knew how to control it, and how to not abuse it. Now, he’d finally let himself use it the way the situation called for. 

The fourth living body in the room cowered behind the plywood desk as Peter took another step. The glass around them reflected in the sun streaming in through the curtains, and illuminated a red glow across the room. Red stained glass reflected off Peter’s goggles as he stared down the representative. “Though I can’t say a quick death by ‘guns blazing’ over there would be worse than my methods.”

Peter could practically hear Wade’s smirk behind him. “I’m officially hard now.” 

Before the representative could reply, Peter heard the distinct metallic sound of a key twisting. It happened quick after that. The man before Peter smirked as he reached for his belt while a wooden drawer slid open. Peter felt the screech rattle in his head as his senses went off just as a gun rose up above the desk on his right. The matte black stood out in harsh contrast to the pale hand holding it. There was no longer a shake to the hidden man’s body, instead it was replaced with stone cold confidence as he aimed at Peter’s skull. The gang leader behind the desk grinned madly. 

“Fuck you Spider-” 

The man behind the drawer didn’t have time to finish as Peter flipped up onto the roof. Blood rushed in his ears as he calculated his next move in the span of a few milliseconds. The man behind the desk looked up in wide eyed confusion as his gun followed Spiderman’s movements. Peter kicked off the ceiling, and landed on the man’s shoulders behind his head. With blinding speed he trapped the man’s throat between his thighs, and crossed his legs. The gun fired wildly in the air as panic rose in the gangsters system. Peter twisted as he let off a shot at the representatives foot who had brandished his own gun, and Peter felt vertebrae dislocate against his thighs. He landed on his feet as the gangster dropped to the ground while the sickening cracking of his neck rang in the room. 

“Don’t underestimate me,” Peter grunted as he watched Tombstone’s representative let out a scream as he fell to clutch his shattered foot. 

Police below shouted orders to each other while civilians screamed below. The shattered remains of the man’s foot were mangled and looked horrific as flecks of white bone could be seen.

“You’ll kill me either way,” the man hissed as he gritted his teeth together. Blood soaked heavily into the carpet as he tried to choke off another scream. 

“But like he said,” Wade spoke. He’d remained unfazed when Peter moved so quickly which indicated just how well he knew the arachnids patterns. Though, it was evident he had been slightly surprised by Peter’s brutal method. Wade chuckled as he landed a foot on the representatives mangled one. The man let out a howl of pain. “Mine  _ would  _ have been quicker.  _ But,  _ then you had to pull a gun on webs here.” Wade ground his foot down, and the man screamed again. Peter winced as he turned his eyes away. The blood from all the men who lied dead in the room invaded Peter’s senses. He could practically taste copper on his tongue. 

Cops were outside now, shouting about coming out with hands up through a megaphone. It was almost comical how naive that sounded as Peter looked at the horror show in front of him. 

“So, what’s the plan? Hm?” Wade hummed with rage clear as day in his tone. It made a shiver run up Peter’s spine. The possessive anger stimulated Peter’s cock, and he almost laughed at how fucked up that was. He was running on an adrenaline high for finally acting on his own accord, and he tried to keep the hysteria at bay. Years of self conditioning were slowly unwinding. 

“I don’t know specifics,” the man whimpered. All bravo had drained from his face as he tried to protect his injured appendage, and sensed the unholy ideas racing in Deadpool’s head. “Tombstone just wants everyone to look the other way when the next phase starts, and needs the cooperation of certain gangs for something else. That’s all I know, I swear! Mercy, please!” His voice had grown hysteric as he spoke. 

Deadpool relieved the pressure on the man’s foot as he stepped back. “Thanks for the information Waylon Park. Unfortunately for you, I’m not a merciful god. But thanks for the information anyways!” Wade giggled before unsheathing a katana and skewering the man. He screamed as Wade lifted him on the blade, and it sliced upwards. The blade stopped as it caught on his ribs, and Wade commented on how the man must have drank a lot of milk as a kid. Peter kept his eyes elsewhere as Wade tossed the man out of the window, and people screamed from below.

“Excessive don’t you think?” Peter hissed as he tried to keep the bile from rising in his throat. That was were they differed. Peter wasn’t invested in the glory of the kill, and the torment of a villain. He vaguely wondered what caused Deadpool to relish in it. “Also what happened to not going guns blazing? We discussed this less than twelve hours ago!”

“You can scold me once we get out of this low budget remake of  _ The Shining _ . I’ll even let you spank me if you want to,” Wade teased as he tore open all the drawers of the desk. The police below threatened they would enter if they did not surrender within sixty seconds. “Plus, they’re background characters used for the gore and badass effect. Trust me, I won’t kill people important to the plot  _ that  _ quickly.” 

“You’re fucked in the head,” Peter cussed as he looked for an escape route. 

That made the merc snicker. “Part of the trademark, baby.” He made a triumphant noise as he pulled out a tiny black book. “Either we just found a book of mistresses or a hole fuckton of possible meth heads.” 

“At this point I don’t know which I’d prefer,” Peter muttered. There was no escape from the room that was visible other than the window. Spiderman hadn’t been linked to murder for months now, and this would definitely cause unwanted problems for the mask vigilante when it came to the police and public opinion. “Looks like we can’t be discreet in our escape.” 

“Well, we won’t be  _ discreet,  _ but we won’t be identified either.” Wade tucked the book into one of his pouches before taking out a cellphone. “Do cool guys look at explosions?”    
“What does that even mean?” Peter replied with furrowed brows. 

Wade let out a gasp. “Well  _ now  _ it means a youtube video at my house, and for you to face the window.” 

Confused, Peter did as he was told. “I don’t get it.” 

“I feel like Sam Wilson teaching Steve Rogers what  _ hi welcome to chili’s  _ means,” Wade commented sourly as he typed something into his phone. Before Peter could retort, an explosion sounded from behind him that caused the building to shake violently. The spider stumbled forward before turning to the innocent looking mercenary who was anything but if the bomb was anything to go by. “Now, let’s blow this popsicle stand so I can blow you.”

 

* * *

 

“Wade,” Peter stammered. His breath came out in gasps as he gripped Wade’s leather clad head in his fingers. “Some… someone might see.”

The sky was turning into a sea of fall leaves as the sun set over the horizon. The cement of the buildings ledge dug into Peter’s shoulder blades as he whimpered quietly. They were on top of a building near Hell’s Kitchen, close enough they could still hear the distant sound of sirens. Wade’s lips were currently wrapped around Peter’s cock, and making the younger man’s head fuzzy as if he were high. 

Wade gasped as he pulled off Peter’s dick to look up at the spider. “Webs, unless someone has binoculars - and is clearly a pervert - no one will see us. Now, let me blow you, then we’ll grab take out, and finally finish the night with me fucking you on the sofa while a cringy song from 2009 plays in the background.” A whine escaped Peter’s throat as Wade stroked him as he spoke. The thought of having Wade’s cock inside him again made the muscles in his abdomen tighten. 

“Wade,” Peter moaned as the man’s mouth returned to its previous position. Wade hummed around him in approval at hearing his name on Peter’s lips. It elicited another gasp as the spiders chest heaved at the stimulation. It was almost too much, and Peter had to concentrate on not doing something very embarrassing to get the merc off his cock. He would not give Wade the glory of being able to say  _ that  _ with confidence. 

As Peter fought off the urge, he was caught off guard as Wade’s tongue dragged up the underside of his shaft. “Wade!” he cried out. “Wade I’m gunna… you stupid fucking merc - Wade!” 

* * *

“Let me tell you, cum is a lot harder to get out of leather than you’d think… that isn’t coming from experience I swear.” 

Peter rolled his eyes as he shed his gloves. 

They were back at Wade’s safehouse after finishing up on the rooftop. The TV was playing a Star Trek episode Wade had turned on once they’d gotten back. A lamp in the living room let a soft glow light the area while the stove light illuminated the kitchen. Wade was talking from his room, claiming he needed to find another mask because his made him look like he’d just gotten a ‘gayshake’. 

“I mean  _ I did,  _ but it’s a lot less arousing when its dried and stuck to your face.”

Wade’s blunt attitude made Peter very grateful he wore a mask as red coloured his cheeks. 

“Your scars won't bother me,” Peter called as pulled up his mask to expose the lower half of his face. He shed his clothing until he was in his turtleneck and cargo pants in the man’s living room. The arachnid clutched his vest in his hands as he gazed around the apartment. It scared him how comfortable he felt in the mercenaries home. He’d only known the man for twenty four hours, and had already ended up in two sexual situations with him. He blamed it on the late blooming bisexuality. 

“You say that, but I really don’t know if I believe it.” Peter turned to the voice to argue, and saw Wade leaning on the door frame to his bedroom. His attire took Peter’s breath away. He wore his mask with low hanging sweatpants and a tight fitted pastel pink shirt that  _ exposed  _ his arms. Wade’s arms were thick and defined, and the shirt only highlighted his powerful body. There was a reason the man’s demeanor oozed power. He looked like he could snap Peter in half, and Peter had grown to be far from the frail lanky boy he used to be. It made his cock stir, even though he’d came only a short time ago. 

Peter ignored his sexual frustration, and instead his eyes traced the flesh that Wade put on show for the spider. The scarring looked like tree bark in a way with the way it grooved his skin. It looked like the scars from exposure to a flame, and it was angry red in some spots as if it was recently healing. It was fascinating and horrific at the same time. 

Slowly, he approached the merc. The man flinched slightly, and it gave Peter pause in shock. He didn’t flinch in the face of the barrel of a gun, but he jolted in the face of his insecurity. There was far more to the man than Peter could fathom. Once some tension left his shoulders, Peter moved close enough that he stood right in front of Wade. “So this is what I felt,” Peter hummed as he traced his finger over Wade’s bicep. He remembered the texture vaguely from when he’d clung to him the night previous. It felt like bark, but was soft rather than rough. 

Wade visible swallowed as he casted his eyes away.

Peter took Wade’s hand in his own, and traced his finger along a groove that ran to his index finger. “Who did this to you?” Peter asked softly as he traced another groove that wrapped around to the man’s wrist. Gently he turned Wade’s hand over to trace the groove that ran over his veins. 

It made the mercenary shiver, and his breath quicken. “He’s dead now, so it doesn’t matter.” His voice was hoarse, and Peter could feel his hand shaking in his own. 

Peter wondered how the other version of himself had reacted when Wade first showed him his skin. It made a small splash of jealousy burn like acid at Peter’s chest, but he quickly dismissed it. Now was not the time to think of pointless and futile things. Besides, if the man’s hesitancy and reactions were anything to go by, it hadn’t gone smoothly the first time. Now it was a flash of anger at his other self that he quickly shoved away. It was not the time for this, this was the time for  _ Wade.  _

Carefully, slowly, Peter brought Wade’s hand upwards to eye level. Wade was visibly shaking now, and gently like the wings of a butterfly Peter brushed his lips against the man’s palm. 

“P-Spidey, you don’t have to,” Wade began. He swallowed harshly as he tried to retract his hand. “I know it’s fucking ugly, I shouldn’t have-”

“Wade,” Peter spoke firmly. The man looked fearful even with the mask between them. Peter’s eyes softened, and he wished the merc could see it. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Baby boy, lying isn’t making it any better,” Wade replied bitterly. 

Arguing with the man who held such a strong opinion on himself was useless. Instead, Peter clutched Wade’s hand in one of his own while his other trailed to the end of Wade’s mask. The man jerked at that, but Peter held his ground. Gently, as if Wade was a fragile doll,  Peter worked the mask upwards to expose the man’s mouth. Before he could grab Peter’s hand to stop him, Peter stopped himself as the mask barely past the mercenary’s nose. The light caught on the grooves to create odd shadows across Wade’s partially exposed face. 

The arachnid softly ran his fingers over Wade’s lips as he gazed at them. The feeling blooming fondly in Peter’s rib cage was terrifying. The man was like a poison, infecting Peters entire body with a paralyzing chemical. For the first time Peter felt less like the spider and more like the fly. He’d blindly flown into Wade’s web, and trapped himself there. It was only a matter of time before Wade completely consumed him. Perhaps this was the calm one felt before the release of the spirit from its corpse. Peter was now treading a possible border between just fucking the merc and something more. 

The fly let himself flail to alert the spider he’d been caught as Peter pressed his lips against Wade’s. 

 

* * *

 

They didn’t talk about the moment afterwards. Instead, Wade fucked Peter into the mattress desperately. Peter couldn’t imagine what the sex would be like when Wade revealed his face if he was this frantically grateful over exposing only a fraction of himself. It was a thought for another time, however.

Peter moaned pittifully as Wade pulled out after releasing inside him. The merc huffed as he quickly removed the condom and tossed it elsewhere in the room before rolling off Peter. The younger man’s body felt sensitive to the touch after he’d came twice in such a short span of time. He whined softly as Wade’s hand brushed his spent cock as he used a baby wipe to clean Peter’s stomach. 

“You’re killing me, I swear,” Wade panted. He pressed a warm kiss to Peter’s throat once he’d cleaned him up. 

Peter just hummed in response as he tried to clear his sex fogged mind. The room smelt like Wade, and it soothed Peter’s senses. A small giggle escaped Peter’s lips as Wade smothered his neck with affection. It was nothing like he’d ever had with Felicia, they’d never had the time or care for this. It was nice. 

“God you’re fucking  _ adorable.  _ Hearing you giggle is like when Kirk saw Spock smile in Amok Time,” Wade commented as he smiled against Peter’s skin. 

“Of course the quote one of the gayest episodes,” Peter mumbled as he brought his hand up to stroke the top of Wade’s head. The darkness made Wade’s insecurities easy up, and the man barely flinched at the sudden new contact. 

Wade gasped and looked up, even if he could only barely make out Peter’s eyes in the dark. “You’ve watched Star Trek?” 

Peter chuckled at the excitement in Wade’s voice. “An older woman I know loves it. We watch it every Sunday. I’ve seen it a few times now,” Peter explained as he continued to run his fingers over Wade’s skin. He wasn’t quite ready to use May’s name or relation yet, even if it was clear Wade knew her in a different timeline. The chili bowl still was sitting out on the coffee table. 

A chuckle escaped the man as he rested his head on Peter’s bare chest. “Nerd,” he teased. “Can’t believe you watched homoerotica with an old lady.” Peter just rolled his eyes. 

They settled into silence for a while. The only sound was the late night buzz from the streets below and their own breathing. A few stray glimmers of fluorescent light beamed through the curtains to colour the room in a pinkish colour. It was a glowing display for a twenty four hour diner. Peter had seen it when he’d left last night. The glow was peaceful and created a feeling of serendipity to encompass the room. Wade’s fingers trailed across Peter’s body and then rose up to trace a scar under Peter’s right eye. s

“Said some fuckface did this to you?” Wade inquired as he thumbed the raised skin. 

Peter was surprised Wade remembered the offhand comment. He pondered sharing for a moment before taking a deep breath. “They were human trafficking. They were abducting African American people off the streets to be used in human experiments to create…  _ slaves. _ ” Peter spat the word in distaste. “Bullshit race theory is what it was, legitimized with lobotomizing innocent people. Fucking nazis,” Peter grunted as he remembered Otto’s face. “I located a place I assumed they’d used to prison them. They were more prepared and stronger than I assumed. Took the cops unloading all their guns chambers to take him down to get him off me.” Peter swallowed thickly. “I was too late for a lot of them.” Robbie’s distant stare haunted Peter’s memories. 

All joking disappeared from Wade as he gingerly brushed the scar. “Did you kill him?” 

Peter squeezed his eyes shut as he remembered facing Otto. “No.” He opened his eyes again to look at the pink hued ceiling. “Wish I had.” Peter glanced down to Wade’s silhouette. “I rarely killed back then. However, I’ve begun to realize being an executioner doesn’t make you inherently evil. If it did, I never would have been given these powers anyways.” 

Wade hummed in agreement as he thumbed another scar on Peter’s jawline. “Doesn’t make your previous actions wrong. It was the right thing at the right time. I’m sure karma fucked those assholes into oblivion.” 

Peter smirked. “True, they lost the war after all.” 

He wondered if that had let Robbie’s soul rest back home. 

 

* * *

 

The bar was loud as people talked over one another while the TV volume blared loudly to call the score count for a hockey game on the screen. Urich grinned widely as Peter dropped a pitcher of beer on the table along with two glasses. It had been a few days since the boutique incident, and opening up to Wade. They hadn’t teamed up since as Wade was busy looking over the contacts in the book they’d taken, and had taken up a hit somewhere in Finland. Peter had been irritated they hadn’t gotten any further with the Tombstone lead, but Wade assured him they’d only lay low for so long. 

The days of separation had also given Peter more unwanted time to think about how he was very evidently becoming a replacement Peter Parker. Wade fucked him like he knew every spot that made him come undone, and joked with him like they’d known each other for years. It was also unsettling how Peter found himself falling into this routine. It was pathetic, Peter knew. 

“How the hell did you miss getting even a single shot is beyond me,” Urich joked as he filled his glass with the cheap beer before them. 

Peter rolled his eyes as his thumb grazed over the gunshot scar on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I had to duck and roll behind a dumpster when bullets started raining from the sky,” Peter replied sarcastically with a defeated smirk. Urich just laughed. “ _ Besides,  _ your shot didn’t even get used! Robbie is leaving us in the dust,” Peter teased. Robbie had heard Peter’s exchange with Urich, and had quickly one upped Urich. He’d gotten a a few bruises, but had escaped the scene relatively unscathed.

“Kid has talent, I’ll admit that. But he’s definitely more invested in political pieces. At this rate he might get a slot for one soon,” Urich commented. The idea made Peter’s heart swell with excitement for his friend. 

It was one of the good days, where it didn’t feel like he was faking it in someone else’s life. Well, for everyone but Wade. 

“So, what’s been on your mind? You’ve been overthinking, I can see the wrinkles,” Urich joked as he flicked Peter between his suddenly furrowed brows. 

A sigh forced its way out of Peter’s lips as he ran his fingers over the condensation on his glass. “I think my guess was right,” he admitted. Urich nodded in understanding. “We’ve been sleeping together. I haven’t asked if I am, but… their ex was very similar to me. Seems like an open and closed case.” Peter hated how pathetic his voice sounded. 

“Why haven’t you asked? It might get awkward, but at least you’ll get a read on what she sees you as even if she lies.” Urich rose his brow as Peter processed his suggestion. 

“Can’t, it’d be too insensitive.” Peter chewed on his lip as he watched the bubbles in his glass swirl in a steady tornado upwards. “Their ex died.” 

“Oh,” was all Urich could manage. 

Peter took a drink of the golden liquid, and let the crisp taste trail across his tongue. He wanted to get inebriated, but knew that would do neither him or Urich any good. “I’ll just get around to asking them soon.” The images of what happened at Wade’s home the last time passed through his mind in a haze of warmth. Though, he supposed that could be attributed to the alcohol that rested in his belly. 

The reveal of skin and histories seemed like an open wound being dug into by a rusted nail. Peter wasn’t sure if he should allow himself to be pulled in closer to Wade. It was almost as if that meant he’d let the nail embed in his flesh to spread its toxins throughout his system to stop his heart. Meanwhile, he’d fake his unwavering health while in secret he bandaged it poorly under gauze. Or he could tear it out quickly with a sharp pain, and heal his own wounds. 

Regardless, Wade had left his own scar on Peter’s body. 

Urich hollered at the television as one of the players shot a puck into the net. Peter’s fingers trailed over the scar on his shoulder, and missed the feeling of Wade’s lips against it. 

 

* * *

 

The cool night air of the fall nipped at Peter’s skin as he wobbled home after the night out. He hadn’t gotten drunk, but the effects of consumption did waver his steps. It would wear off quickly due to his high metabolism, but the warmth in his cheeks proved itself useful for the time being. 

Once he was out of sight from others, he quickly ducked into an alley. He walked up along the wall until he reached the rooftop. Jumping from building to building was a more enjoyable route home, and would help clear his head. The bricks and roof tar under his feet grounded him in a way that felt close to home. 

As he jumped across the city his eyes roamed the lit sky. It wasn’t the sky of home, but he knew in some ways it was a sister to his original universe. She had dimples where her sister once had freckles, but she would still call Peter a son of hers. 

He crawled into his window once he finally reached his small dingy home. It was a small studio apartment on the fifth floor above a chinese restaurant. The doors had long closed in the evening hours, and the signs dimmed into simple glass ready to heat in neon colours come morning. His room was lit by the city lights outside that casted shadows from the books lining the second window above his bed. The one he came through blew the cool air into his home as he stepped down on the cheap linoleum of the kitchen. A small fridge, stove, and one counter made up the space with two small cupboards hanging above them. He kicked off his shoes before falling onto his bed gracelessly. The roof above him echoed the small sounds of someone moving above him while to his right he heard the low hum of a television set. 

After resting a moment, Peter sat up and shuffled through his bedside table. Once he located the objects of his desire, he crawled out the kitchen window again to sit on the firescape. The metal creaked under his weight as he settled down to watch a few people walk below in the night. 

He lit up the small rolled paper in his fingers to inhale the sharp distinct taste. Even the masked hero didn’t abide by all rules. To his credit, it hadn’t been criminalized until after him and his old friends lit up in the backyard after school. 

The green leaves lit into a hot ember as the drug spread through his system. As he continued to inhale, his phone chimed in his pocket. Pinching the joint between two fingers, he pulled out the device to see a message. 

_ The job is almost finished. Be in NY soon. -DP _

__ Peter flicked the ash as he typed out a reply. His mind relaxed and his overactive sensory system hummed in the corners of his body. It was the most at peace he’d been in the past few weeks. 

_ See you then. Hope everything went well. -SM _

__ Peter rolled his eyes at the mercenary’s reply. 

_ Meh, lost an arm and a leg, but otherwise I’m as healthy as Gwyneth Paltrow during a juice cleanse. -DP _

“Sarcastic asshole,” Peter chuckled softly to himself. 

He quickly finished the joint and tossed the evidence down to the street below. After crawling into bed and falling asleep he sent off a final message. 

_ Goodnight. -SM _

__ _ Goodnight. -DP _

 

* * *

  
  


Bullets rained like a monsoon as Peter charged through the group of gang members. A woman shouted a command, and the others were quick to pursue the masked vigilante. He’d gotten word of another meeting taking place the day after his night out with Urich, and was met with a group ready for a fight. Protection had been upped due to the last two incidents, Peter knew it would be. However, he had not expected them to rig the ventilation shafts with motion sensors. He had least expected most of the guardsmen to be mutants. 

The current duo that followed hot on his heels had abilities Peter hadn’t prepared for. The two females were twins with the ability to produce spikes along their body made of calcium, and shoot them off like porcupines. One of these bone like spikes currently had itself embedded in Peter’s lower back. With the sheering pain, he assumed it had punctured an organ. He hoped his body could keep up with the pain for a while longer. It had torn through his bullet proof vest like butter, and Peter was grateful the thick material had caused it to lose its momentum. Had it not, he was sure he would have a gaping hole through his body that would render him immobile. 

The third member that followed further behind was a normal gang member who spewed bullets from his gun like a madman. His reckless onslaught of bullets thankfully resulted in poor aim on Peter’s skull. 

“Hey dude! There is a sight on a gun for a reason!” Peter called behind him. The only response he got was a war cry as more bullets filled the air. 

_ Right _ , Peter thought with a sigh,  _ better find a way out of this.  _

He skidded to a stop, his boots squealing on the shinned floor. Quickly he spun around, and let off a spew of dark webbing to throw the three behind him to the ground. 

“Baby Boy-” 

A surprised shout sounded as Peter watched not three, but  _ four  _ bodies become glued down to the ground under the thick black substance. The twin girls screeched as they tried to produce more spikes from their bodies, but clearly had exhausted their reserve of calcium for the moment. The gunman was out cold from his thick head hitting the ground with his gun thrown far from his reach. 

Lastly, a man clad in red and black looked up with surprised eyes under the webbing. 

“Deadpool?” Peter said with a quirked brow under his mask. “When did you get back?” 

“I thought you said you didn’t have webbing! You liar!” The mercenary accused with a deep pout as he thrashed on the ground. 

With an eyeroll Peter looked at the man squirming on the ground. The mercenary who could cause a man to piss himself was currently throwing a temper tantrum like a toddler. “I didn’t say that. I said I didn’t  _ shoot  _ webbing. I produce them in a way similar to a real spider.” The distinction was clear for Peter, some of his counterparts used a webshooter while he had the ability to produce them. So in turn, he didn’t  _ shoot  _ webs, he  _ produced  _ them. 

“Technicalities!” Wade hollered as if it was a defense. He continued to throw himself around under the webbing, and looked like an utter buffoon. 

“This is really immature,” Peter mused as he took a blade from his thigh. The compound lining the blade allowed for it to slice through the webbing with ease. 

“Liar, liar pants on fire, hanging from a telephone wire!” Wade chanted loudly over the curses coming from the twins behind him. 

“What are you doing here anyways?” Peter inquired once he freed the man. 

Wade was quick to jump to his feet and shoot a playfully accusing look to Peter. “Well, unlike  _ some _ , I won’t lie. I followed you when I saw you earlier this morning.” He said it with pride as he puffed out his chest like he was the smartest man alive. 

“Stalker,” Peter retorted before webbing the two screaming twins mouths shut. “Let’s go, I’m sure they’ve alerted other’s there has been a breach. Hopefully they haven’t wrapped up the meeting yet.” 

Without another word they quickly fell into step beside one another as they rushed through the halls of the building. It was a massive villa that was owned by one of the big named gang leaders Tombstone was in collaboration with. It was a high end drug ring that produced lots of the hard drug problems in New York. Peter had dealt with the group before, but he hadn’t ever seen the two mutant twins before. It was a new addition Peter made note of. 

It was likely the gang leader had ordered the meeting take place here to provide security, which meant this was likely a meeting with deep connecting roots to Tombstone. Peter hoped the representative that currently was somewhere in the building would know more than the previous two.

They finally rounded a corner with a sleek black glass door guarded by two men with military grade weapons. Wade was quick to put bullets in both their foreheads before they could lift a finger. Peter didn’t have time to lecture him, and instead kicked the locked doors fiercely so they tore from their hinges and shattered on the white marble ground in front of them. 

The shards shined rays of light from the sun beaming through the windows. Floor to ceiling windows filled all the walls with a black glass desk in the middle of the room to match the aesthetic. A man in a suit stood abruptly from the desk. His eyes widened as his crow feet wrinkles deepened. A woman who had been facing the desk turned abruptly as she narrowed her eyes at the two new intruders. Anger swept across her features as her jaw clenched tightly. Her sleek black hair rested at her shoulders, and her brown eyes blazed with fury. Something about her alerted Peter’s spidey senses. 

Before Wade could charge, Peter stopped him with a firm hand on his chest. “I’m assuming we came at a bad time?” Peter jested as he locked eyes with the mystery woman. 

“ _ Ik ga je vermoorden _ !” The foreign words seeped with dark intent. 

“ _ Ik denk het niet, _ ” Deadpool replied coolly with narrowed eyes. 

“What is Tombstone planning?” Peter interjected as he prevented Wade from lunging forward. 

Instead of replying she slid into a fighting stance. She looked like a predator, ready to pounce and consume its prey. Her lips curved upwards into a snarl as she eyed her two opponents. 

Suddenly she screamed a command and her body morphed into transparency.  _ Invisibility _ ? Peter quickly stood into his own stance. Wade cursed as he pulled two sharp blades from their holsters on his back before pressing closer to Peter. The duo’s eyes searched the space for the suddenly missing woman. The man behind the desk was unfazed, and instead took his seat again. The chilling calmness of the man sent warning signals to Peter’s brain. This representative was far different than those previous. 

Peter adjusted his stance as he continued to survey his surrounds. A second later the sound of glass clinking against marble sounded to Peter’s right. Just as quickly, his senses went off. 

“Move!” Peter ordered as he ducked to the side just as a sharp lance of glass flew through the space he had just been standing. 

Wade rolled away from the weapon before standing and letting off a shot in the direction the attack came from. The bullet missed its target and instead shattered one of the glass windows. Peter hissed as he slid away while the glass from the door cut at his knees.

“Where the fuck are you?” Wade demanded while scanning the room. 

The sun glinted off the glass fragments, and suddenly Peter could see her. “Move!” Peter called again just as the nearly translucent figure sliced through the air. Wade was quick to obey, and narrowly missed the life ending blow. “She’s made of a glass like substance!” Peter informed his counterpart as the woman turned her face to him. He could make out fragments of her in the way the sun reflected off the surface of her body. 

“ _ Jij bent slim, _ ” she replied as glass skidded across the floor to absorb into her body. “ _ Ik zal je tong afsnijden _ !”

Suddenly an onslaught of glass shards like needles was casted in Peter’s direction. He dove to the side before shooting off webbing at her legs. She cussed in a string of Dutch as she tried to slice away the black substance. In her distraction, Wade sliced towards her throat, but his eyes widened as it bounced from her clear skin. 

Predicting her attack, Wade jumped from her slightly visible glass hand. She now had morphed her nails into razor sharp claws. Just as she shredded away the webbing, Wade grabbed the drug boss to hold a menacing blade to his throat. He barely flinched at the steel pressed against the stubble on his throat. Years of violence had rendered the man fearless in the face of death. It made a shiver run up Peter’s spine. Everything was moving quickly, and it was clear that they held a power Peter was not prepared to face.

The woman cackled as she held her hand before her with her palm forward. “Go ahead, there are many who can take his place,” she spoke. Her accent was thick, but her tone held no indication of a bluff. Even though she was made of glass, her arms were thick with muscle and her eyes sharp like a hawk. She was by no means fragile. 

“I know,” Wade replied easily with a small shrug. “But makes for a good shield.” The man frowned, clearly in distaste of being referred to as a shield. 

With Wade providing a distraction, Peter’s mind raced. She was immune to a blunt attack, so guns would be useless. Peter eyed the glass that absorbed into her as she faced Wade. It was clear her body in this form was made up of glass, though due to its mass it wouldn’t be easily broken by a katana. There was something different about the makeup, but since she could absorb glass it meant she was made up of similar compounds. She wasn’t unbreakable, but she was much stronger than a simple glass figurine. The melting point for regular glass was much too high for a fire or explosion to render her immobile. 

A memory of taking a hot glass from the sink water popped into Peter’s mind. He remembered it had been a warm smoggy summer day the year he turned six. Aunt May had cooked lunch, and Peter was on wash up duty. He had run the heated glass under cool water to rinse away the soap bubbles, and it had shattered in his hand. Uncle Ben had bandaged him up, and warned the young boy that putting hot glass under cold water would make it break. A thin white scar was still visible on his palm from where the pressurized glass had cut him. 

He eyed his surroundings and saw a pool outside the villa. There was still water inside of it, and with the weather outside it would be a very cold dip. 

Now, where would he get some fire from? 

Peter was torn back to the fight as the woman sneered at one of Wade’s remarks. “This fight is worth nothing. I’ll just get rid of all of you.” 

Glass shards spewed from her hand like deadly icicles towards Wade. The mercenary threw the gang leader to the ground with him as he ducked behind the desk. Peter was quick to web her legs again, and this time yanked harshly on the webbing. She cussed as she was flung down against the marble, cracking the rock beneath her as her body made contact. 

Peter was quick to leap from his spot and run along the glass windows as she let off another onslaught of glass. As his foot made contact with the next window he yelped in surprise as the panel was thrust into him and threw him clear across the large room. He rolled across the ground after smacking into the tiles. He moaned in pain as he repeatedly landed on the sharp bone imbedded into his lower back. The pain was blinding, and he wheezed while the woman absorbed the massive glass window. Her mass grew as she collected more of the broken glass in the room, and flecks of black glass also made up a few parts of her features. She now towered seven feet in the air, and smirked wickedly as she noticed some of the glass shards attached to her body dripped with blood. 

She swiped some of the blood from her body onto a glass finger before licking the thick red liquid. “ _ Heerlijk _ ,” she hummed as she watched Peter struggle to his knees. He coughed harshly, and looked in shock as bubbly blood splattered the white tiles. It seeped into the cracks, and dyed everything it touched. 

She had punchered one of his lungs. He could feel his breathing worsen as he realized the throw must have broken a rib straight into his vital organ. The pain was unbearable. It creeped into Peter’s vision, and made his body weak. 

“Just a flesh wound,” Peter wheezed as he shakily got to his knees. 

“ _ Je bent sterk, _ ” she said as she gave the injured man a quick up and down. “ _ Je zou nuttig kunnen zijn. _ ” Suddenly she was gripping Peter’s chin in her cold hard fingers. She tilted his face to the side with curiosity. “ _ Een mutant ook. Ik vraag me af of je je bij ons zou voegen. _ ” 

Peter hadn’t the faintest clue what she was saying, but by the expression on her face it was far from good. He gathered saliva and blood in his mouth and spat in her face. She didn’t flinch, but instead smirked. 

“ _ Ik kan je dwingen. _ ” 

“Not happening you glorified glass figurine.”

Wade smashed the chair he held over her head. She grunted, but didn’t fracture from the impact. Peter quickly tore himself away from her to stand again. He hadn’t understood her words, but they had made a chill rush up Peter’s spine like ice. 

“You imbecile!” She snapped angrily as she shot upright and slammed her shoulder into Wade’s chest. He grunted as he was flung backwards, and landed harshly against the ground. The sickening crack of bones sounded in the room. “I’ll kill you!” 

Peter’s eyes shot to the window as he heard sirens. Police flooded up the road, and he knew soon this place would be swarming with FEDs. Someone must have called the cops when they had heard the gunfire. They had to make their escape, pronto. The red and blue lights reflected off the woman’s features, and she sneered at the oncoming policemen. 

“We should really be leaving, Glas.” The mob leader was still standing by the desk picking shards of glass from his suit. He looked unfazed by the whole ordeal. “I am completely willing to listen to the further commands.” 

The woman - Glas - nodded curtly. “Glad to hear it. Now, playtime is over.” 

As quick as lightning, Glas suddenly had a hold on Wade’s throat. He had stood again, and had tried to swing his katana at her. Peter shouted in fear as Wade was met with the smiling face of the villain. 

“ _ Zeg hallo tegen de duivel voor mij, _ ” Glas whispered with sinister intent. Her teeth gleamed in the light of the late afternoon sun. 

“She actually goes by Death,” Wade retorted just as her fist made contact with his gut. 

“Wade!” Peter screamed as Glas casted the mercenary’s body out of the window. The window shattered as his body flew down to the cement below. 

Fear surrounded him like a suffocating snake as Glas grabbed the representative before shooting him a final look. “See you again, Spider,” she said with a smile. She then jumped from one of the glass windows opposite of the one she’d thrown Wade from. 

Peter’s vision was blotchy from pain and fear as he scrambled across the glass covered gloor to the window. His brain quickly gave up any idea of chasing after her as he looked to the motionless body below him. Clumsily he jumped to the ground, and rushed to the pile of limbs on the cement outside the villa. 

“Wade!” Peter screamed again as he fell to the mercenaries side. A long slice tore open Wade’s gut, and Peter had to turn his face to vomit as he saw organs spilling from Wade. His intestines twitched as they haphazardly overflowed from their home. Blood pooled like a lake, and soaked into Peter’s pants. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he watched in horror as the blood mingled with his vomit. More blood spilled from Peter’s lips as he began hyperventilating, and his lungs heaved in effort. 

Everything was red. 

All he could see was Ben’s mawled corpse. So much blood and guts and  _ pain _ . The  _ pain.  _ It swarmed Peter’s lungs like locust and made his body shake like he was standing on the Himalayan mountains as the tectonic plates collided. His bones shook, his teeth chattered, and bile rose in his throat. 

“Webs?” Wade rasped as his hand found Peter’s thigh. The contact stunned Peter back into the present. 

“Wade?” Peter gasped, choking on his tears as he turned to look at the man. He could see his organs pumping inside him. They glistened with slick blood as they attempted to maintain Wade’s lifeline. 

The cops were shouting with a microphone at the villa, clearly thinking there was still a war going on inside. 

“Calm down, okay?” Wade spoke, gurgling on his own blood. Peter quickly pulled the mask over his lips, and the man smiled in thanks. It made Peter’s stomach drop as he saw more blood staining his teeth. 

“Calm down?” Peter whispered as fat tears blurred his vision. “Calm down?! Wade you-you can’t die!” Peter pleaded as he gripped Wade’s face in his hands. 

Wade chuckled at that, as if it was a  _ joke.  _ “Get us out of here? Cops… can’t do cops…” Wade hummed softly. 

“I can’t move you! You’ll die!” Peter sobbed violently as he looked down at the man below him.  _ No, not another one. _

__ Wade grunted as he tried to sit up, ignoring Peter’s pleas for him to stay still. Peter’s stomach dropped as Wade began gathering his spilled organs and rearranging them back inside himself. He hissed in pain, and Peter turned to vomit again at the squelching sound of Wade forcing them back in place. 

“Take me home?” Wade managed to say as he swayed unsteadily. 

Blood was pouring from his mouth now as he tried to catch the intestines that continued to slip past the barricade of limbs he used to keep them inside. His arms and hands were smeared with the thick liquid. The smell was unbearable. 

Peter shakily nodded as he tried to web Wade together. Wade made a noise of thanks as Peter gathered him in his arms. He was immediately drenched in the copper scent, and it warmed his own wounded skin. Quickly Peter hooked a web to the neighbouring five story house. They were a short swinging distance from large buildings.  _ I can get Wade back to the safehouse in less than twenty minutes _ , he prayed to any diety that listened. 

Wade died in his arms after seven. 

 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> Sorry the wait was so long, my life got pretty fucked up. I've started off 2019 with a new apartment, a new job, new meds, and a more hopeful outlook on life.  
> Any comments are appreciated! Hope you guys enjoyed.  
> Everything was broken up this chapter to really get things rolling. Sorry I know I promised ass eating, it'll happen next chapter for sure.  
> Thanks again for all the amazing comments on the previous chapter, I'm glad people like this!!!  
> Till next time,  
> Jord.  
> Find me @ louiswt.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Peter Parker - Was in his late teens (approx 18-19) during the Great Depression. Grew up a lot tougher than the original Spiderman. Uses a gun and wears a completely different outfit. Doesn't use webs as frequently as the other spiders, but does parkour instead. He found Uncle Ben's shredded body, who was killed by Vulture. He found his stand in uncle of sorts - Urich - shot in the head by Chameleon. He found Robbie had been lobotomized by Otto. Blames himself for Felicia not wanting to see him ever again and being horribly scarred (her face) by Taskmaster. Has killed villains, and has a more dubious moral code than his Earth 616 counterpart.  
> In this fic he is now 26 years old. Morals are very flexible. Scars aren't noticeable in comics, but I added them in for character. Is much more rough around the edges than Earth 616.  
> Wade Wilson - Background is as per usual origin story.  
> In this fic he is 30 years old. He was in love with a Peter Parker from a different universe who died, and he blames himself for it. Due to this he is a bit more soft spoken around Peter.  
> (I also made Robbie closer to Peter's age like in Noir rather than like in Earth 616, so here he is two years his senior)
> 
> If you have any other questions feel free to leave them below. I also highly recommend reading Spiderman Noir, its honestly fantastic. I cannot describe how much I loved that comic. Be warned it is very gritty and deals with very real issues (Robbie's plot is utterly heartbreaking).
> 
> I know the apartment scene was kind out OOC, but it was a deep moment that relied on the idea that Wade already /knew/ Peter before, and Peter is angsty in general due to his Noir!verse. They'll be back to their bantering selves next chapter.
> 
> I hope you enjoy so far, and continue to enjoy the updates to come. Also just as a warning, I don't have a BETA so this editing was done by me at 5:50am while I debated editing this or sleeping for my 9am class. Guess which one won? 
> 
> also catch wade eating peters ass next chapter y'all. 
> 
> Find me:  
> tumblr @louiswt


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